


A Sea of Tonal Reds

by marmolita



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, F/M, Hand Jobs, Not Cheating, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 08:23:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5490380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmolita/pseuds/marmolita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt returns to Scene Contempo Gallery. Vanessa knows exactly why he's there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sea of Tonal Reds

**Author's Note:**

> I never planned to write Matt/Vanessa, but I discovered I kind of love it. Oops.
> 
> For those who (like myself) don't like to read about cheating, you can be assured that Vanessa has a prior arrangement with Fisk that their relationship is open to her having sex with other men. This is set during episode 9.

Vanessa was headed to the front door to close up the gallery for the evening when she noticed a familiar face on the other side. "Matthew?" she asked, opening the door and stepping one foot out. "Did you change your mind about that painting?"

His lips quirked into an abashed smile, head tilted down, hands playing with the top of his long, white cane. "I enjoyed listening to you describing it for me. I'm afraid I was a bit flustered by your, uh, boyfriend's presence, and perhaps I left more hastily than I should have." Vanessa smiled to herself, allowing her gaze to linger on the shape of his body, well-defined by his tailored suit. She generally was too well-mannered to stare so openly, but it wasn't like Matthew could see her doing it.

"Of course," she replied smoothly, reaching for his hand. "Please, come in. I was just about to close up, so we'll have the place to ourselves." Matthew allowed himself to be led into the gallery, and slid his hand up her arm to her elbow to follow her to the painting she'd been showing him earlier.

"Tell me," Matthew said, "what is Mr. Fisk's favorite piece?" Vanessa smiled. She hadn't exactly expected Matthew to return to her gallery, certainly not on the same night, but it wasn't entirely a surprise. All those leading questions earlier, and his swift return back to the same line of questioning -- she wasn't certain whether he was interested in Wilson because of their tenancy case or something else, but she was going to find out as much as she could.

"Well, he's quite a connoisseur of the arts. But art is really about finding something that speaks to you, personally. Wilson's favorite is a piece called 'Rabbit in a Snowstorm.'"

Matthew laughed, a rich chuckle that prickled pleasantly in Vanessa's ears. "'Rabbit in a Snowstorm?' Sounds very . . . white."

"It is," she replied, settling her free hand over Matthew's. "To be honest, the red piece I described to you earlier is very similar, just in a different tone."

"Tell me about the other pieces in your gallery. I'm sure a woman as remarkable as yourself has excellent taste."

Vanessa led Matthew around the gallery, describing each work, gently prodding him to reveal bits of information about himself as he prodded her in return for information about Wilson. It wasn't easy to get him to open up. He had a perfectly charming facade, but would redirect the conversation any time she got close to anything personal. Actually, it was rather refreshing to verbally spar with someone of equal wit.

"Well," she said eventually, "I think I've described everything we have, Matthew."

He smiled, inclining his head. "I like listening to your voice."

"It's getting late."

"Oh, I'm sorry to have kept you so long." He made to move away, but she kept her hand over his, keeping him in place holding her elbow.

"I didn't mean to imply you had to leave." Vanessa led him toward her desk at the back of the gallery, where they'd be slightly more obscured from the street, and from the security guards posted at the front and back entrances. "You’ve been flirting with me quite outrageously, Matthew. Not exactly what I'd expect from someone who knows who my significant other is."

Matthew's hand tensed on her elbow and he started to draw back again, but she pushed him back against the desk. "I didn't mean anything by it," he said hurriedly. "My mouth sometimes gets ahead of me."

"Oh, I'm sure you meant it," she replied, "and I'm sure your mouth is quite skilled." She stepped into his space, pressing their bodies together, hands coming to rest on his hips.

"M-- Ms Marianna," he stammered.

"Please," she replied, tightening her grip, "Vanessa."

"Vanessa. Your boyfriend--"

"Oh, don't worry about Wilson. He and I have an arrangement regarding attractive young men such as yourself." She slid her hand around to the front of his pants, intent unmistakeable. He drew in a swift breath and she smiled to herself at the way his body responded to her so rapidly.

"Well," Matthew said, setting down his cane and recovering his composure, "I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so to speak."

"So to speak," Vanessa agreed, rubbing along his thickening length. Whether or not she was able to get any information out of him, she was certainly going to enjoy herself.

Matthew cupped her face with one hand and drew her into a kiss, and oh, he was just as skilled in tangling lips and tongue as he was in tangling wits. He may have been younger than she, but he was far from inexperienced. Vanessa allowed him to turn them around and lift her up onto her desk, one hand on her neck holding her still while he kissed her, the other coming down to skim over her right breast, rubbing at one hardening nipple with his thumb. She gave his erection one more squeeze, then moved her hands back up to a more comfortable position, spreading over his chest and abdomen. His muscles were surprisingly hard under her hands -- not what she expected from a blind man, although clearly being blind wasn't a barrier to physical fitness.

He knew what he was doing, and he knew his way around a woman's body. Matthew kissed down her neck, standing between her legs in front of the desk and pulling her up against him so that the bulge in his slacks rubbed against her panties. She let out a pleased hum as he unbuttoned her blouse halfway down, spreading the fabric out of the way so he could pull her breasts out of her bra and get his mouth on them. He teased her nipples with his tongue, one after the other, and Vanessa found in the moment that she didn't much care what he did or didn't know about Wilson.

"You have a remarkably talented tongue, Matthew," she murmured as he licked a tight circle around her nipple, then sucked it into his mouth fully.

"You haven't seen the half of it," he replied cockily as he slid his hands under her skirt and pulled down her panties. She leaned back, bracing herself with her hands behind her, as he knelt down in front of her and rucked up her skirt to her hips, setting his glasses aside on the desk.

He wasn't exaggerating.

Where Wilson was all emotion and eager intent, Matthew was practiced skill. He played her like a violin, plucking at her strings in all the right places, lips and tongue and fingers creating a crescendo of gasps and moans. Every time she felt her blood start to pump harder, bringing orgasm closer, he would slow down as if he somehow knew, then build her back up again until she was trembling from being kept on the edge for so long.

Vanessa moved one of her hands off the desk to grab Matthew's hair and pull him in harder, ready for the torture to end. His tongue teased around her entrance, then slid up to flicker over her clit. He closed his lips and sucked, while one of his fingers slipped barely inside her -- just enough to add that tiny bit more stimulation she needed. She twisted her fingers in his hair, holding him tight to her as she rocked her hips through wave after wave of pleasure, muscles contracting hard around his finger.

When she finally released him, Matthew staggered to his feet, gasping for air. His cheeks were flushed, his mouth and chin glistening from her moisture, impressively hard cock tenting his pants. It was a good look on him, and without the glasses she could admire the shape of his eyes and the curve of his cheekbones.

"You are full of surprises, Matthew," she murmured appreciatively. "Where on Earth did you learn to do that?"

Matthew laughed, licking his lips. "You're far from my first, Vanessa." He wiped at his chin with two fingers, then put them in his mouth and sucked. "You taste . . . amazing. I hope your-- I hope Mr. Fisk appreciates that."

Vanessa smiled, sliding off the desk to button her blouse and straighten her skirt, panties still cast aside on the floor. "Oh, Wilson appreciates every part of me, just as I appreciate him." She hooked her fingers into Matthew's belt, then walked him backwards until his back hit the wall next to one of the larger pieces she had in the gallery. It was another abstract work, sworls of purple creating an angry sky over the suggestion of a black landscape. Matthew felt along the wall to get his bearings, one hand finding the side where the wall opened up to the front portion of the gallery, the other bumping against the frame.

She rubbed her hand over his erection, squeezing lightly and enjoying the way his head tilted back and his breath came faster. "Tell me, Matthew, is there a woman who appreciates you?" Vanessa unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly, reaching inside his underwear to draw him out.

Matthew huffed out a breathy chuckle that turned into a groan as she started to stroke him. "Don't you?"

"You _are_ quite lovely to look at," Vanessa replied, twisting her hand around the head of his cock. "It's a shame you can't see yourself, though I'm sure that's what all the girls tell you."

He jerked under her hand, hips rocking forward as his breathing sped up. "I've heard it before. You know I don't have to see myself to know what I look like."

"Oh, I'm sure you've felt every inch of this body." Vanessa moved her free hand up, pushing up his shirt to trace over the hard muscles of his abdomen. "Is that what you do, alone in your bare-walled apartment? Do you touch yourself and think about how gorgeous you are?"

"Ahhh . . ." She had to admit, Matthew made the most lovely sounds. And he _was_ gorgeous, red lips hanging open, eyes closed, cock hard and heavy in her hand. It was a shame Wilson wasn't interested in threesomes.

"Were you thinking about me, this evening? Is this what you came back here for?" He was panting now, lower lip trembling slightly in concentration. "Did you think about _fucking_ me?"

"Y-- Yes," Matthew breathed, hips rolling uncontrollably. "God, yes, I want to fuck you."

Vanessa tightened her grip, listening to his moans grow louder as he approached his peak. "Is that because you want me for myself? Or because I'm Wilson's?"

Matthew came with a loud groan, spilling over her hand and onto the floor, head thumping back against the wall. Vanessa stroked him through the aftershocks, then left him there as she went to her desk for tissues to clean up.

He hadn't moved when she returned, but he accepted the tissues she offered him and wiped himself up. He did up his slacks, then grabbed his glasses off the table and settled them back in place.

"Vanessa, I--"

"You don't have to say anything, Matthew. But do let me know if you decide you want to buy that painting after all."

"O-- Of course." He inclined his head toward her, then felt along the desk for his cane and used it to navigate out of the gallery.

Hmm. Vanessa knelt to pick up her panties, then tucked them into her purse. After hearing about her evening's activities, Wilson would probably appreciate the surprise.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for [enthusiasmgirl](http://archiveofourown.org/users/enthusiasmgirl) for beta!


End file.
